


barely breathing

by Lire_Casander



Series: in this broken beautiful mess [4]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Asthma, Asthma Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Mentions of Fires, Mentions of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27284164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: tk wakes up to the sound of carlos being unable to breathe properly
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Series: in this broken beautiful mess [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989202
Comments: 12
Kudos: 132





	barely breathing

**Author's Note:**

> beta’ed by [meloingly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meloingly/pseuds). any remaining mistakes are my own
> 
> title from _feeling small_ by marianas trench
> 
> written for [tk strand week 2020](https://tkstrandweek.tumblr.com/post/623797377206255616/welcome-to-tk-strand-week-2020-please-join-us-in), **_day 4: “i’m proud of you” + future + tk and carlos_**
> 
> written for anon who asked for **_asthma attack_** from my [bad things happen bingo card](https://lire-casander.tumblr.com/post/626174763915722752/welcome-to-my-very-own-bad-things-happen-bingo)
> 
> information on asthma can be found over at the [nhs webpage](https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/asthma/asthma-attack/)

The wheezing is what wakes him up — not the uncomfortable position in which heʼs fallen asleep or the increasing pressure of his bladder calling for attention. It’s the sound of harsh breathing reverberating through the surface heʼs currently drooling on. 

TK shoots up with a start, suddenly very aware of where he is and why he is there, only to meet Carlosʼ bewildered eyes, fully blown-out in panic so that they’re almost black. TK sits back, neck cracking loudly when he stretches, before he can assess the situation. He’s still half-asleep, but he can feel his first-responder instincts kicking in at the sight of his fiancé trying — and failing — to catch his breath. 

“Carlos?” he says, the name rolling off his tongue easily. There’s nothing screaming ease in his stance now, though — TK is becoming more awake by the second, and heʼs beginning to understand the scene in front of him. 

Carlos is attempting to catch his breath but he canʼt. TK sees him inhaling deeply but shakily, and he can feel how the breaths don’t reach Carlosʼ lungs, getting trapped somewhere between his mouth and his throat. TK feels Carlos stiffening by his side, finally aware of his audience, and he places a hand on top of Carlosʼ, right where the fingers are digging desperately into the jeans, almost cutting through them in an attempt to touch flesh. 

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” Carlos tries to say — or at least that's what TK thinks heʼs saying, because the words come out slurred and blended together, an amalgam of noises cut by the incessant wheezing. 

“Calm down,” TK instructs. “You need to calm down. I think you're having a panic attack. It’s going to be okay, honey, let me help.” 

But Carlos shakes his head, jerking his hand back when TK tries to grab it. He looks frantic now, color almost drained from his face. “Not panic,” he manages to grit out through grinded teeth. 

TK blinks at his fiancé. It looks like a panic attack to him, and, after the day Carlos has had, TK wouldn’t be surprised if this isn't the least important of their experiences tonight. He subtly checks the clock on the shelf over the TV to discover it's a little over midnight. On a normal day, they would be playing around — shirts discarded on the floor, hands roaming over bodies, lips marking every patch of visible skin — but today is not normal. 

Today is the first day in their three-year-long relationship that TK has actually _feared_ he could lose Carlos. His wonderful, strong, precious fiancé who surprises him with breakfast in bed whenever they have a late shift, or who always manages to bring out the best in him with his sole presence. TK had been _this close_ to missing out for the rest of his life. 

It's been a difficult shift for everyone. It seems as though the city has become crazy — there have been calls for dumpster fires and kids creating havoc — enough for them to have crossed paths more than once during their day. But when the 126 had been sent to a domestic fire, TK had felt dread pooling in his gut for no reason at all. His father had called him jumpy, and Judd had laughed his feelings off as being weary after a twenty-four-hour shift. Paul had eyed him warily while Marjan and Mateo had simply shrugged it off as TK being, well, TK. 

Heʼd seen the cruiser before even registering what was happening inside. And then, the voices over the comms had taken over, overriding his system with their short, curt orders. 

“Officer in the house,” he had heard. “Officer in the house!”

Nobody had laughed at him upon seeing Carlosʼ partner being physically restrained by another police officer before he could launch himself into the burning building, shouting something about how it had been an easy call until they had discovered it really was a domestic abuse situation and the man had set his wife on fire to prove his point — whatever _that_ had been. 

Carlos had tried to stop him, and heʼd been caught in the crossfire. 

Later on, after theyʼd rescued everyone and arrests had been made, TK would breathe deep and thank the powers that be because Carlos had made it out alive. But that would be much later — first heʼd have to enter the house with his heart beating hard in his chest, not knowing whether or not Carlos Reyes would be fine when they found him. 

Afterwards, TK had taken Carlos back home and heʼd lavished his fiancé with love and attention — nothing strenuous much to their shared chagrin, on doctorʼs orders — and they had fallen asleep on the couch in the middle of a Lord of the Rings marathon. 

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” TK says, brought back to the present by another round of wheezing and the feeling of Carlosʼ fingers squeezing harder against his own. He promptly forgets about kicking down a door and finding Carlos sprawled on the floor, about the panic when he hadn’t been able to find a pulse, about the trip to the hospital and the waiting room. Carlos needs him now. 

“I need—” Carlos begins, massaging his chest in an attempt to relieve the pressure. TK thinks that it's the strangest panic attack heʼs ever witnessed. “Asthma,” he manages to drawl. 

“Asthma?” TK parrots. “This canʼt be asthma!” 

He may not be the smartest pre-paramedic in the room — as much as heʼs learning with Captain Torres — but even he knows that asthma attacks on adults are scarce and based on previous conditions. TK would have known if Carlos had suffered from asthma as a kid. 

Except for he most surely forgot to mention that condition, apparently, for now that TKʼs brain isn't addled by sleep he can see the signs and symptoms — the wheezing, the chest massages, the need to stay upright, the fingers digging into the jeans in an attempt to keep the nerves away. Having been in a fire with tons of smoke after a stressful call has only added to his previous condition. 

TK is going to have a talk with Carlos about this — about sharing important medical information and whatnot —but right now he has his mind set to another goal. 

He’s moving before he can think too much about it, his paramedic training _finally_ kicking in. 

TK helps Carlos up as gently as he can. He wraps an arm around Carlosʼ waist to keep him standing when the coughs double him over, and he drags them both — and the blanket that had been covering them — to the kitchen. With one hand he steers Carlos, who’s wheezing harsher, and with the other he turns on the hot water at the sink and when he deems it suitable, he plugs the sink. TK helps Carlos lean into the sink as he pulls the blanket over his head, encouraging his fiancé to inhale deeply the steam coming from the water.

TK realizes it doesn’t work when Carlos’ wheezes become even worse, something TK hadn’t thought possible.

“Cold,” Carlos manages to bite out between shaky breaths, evidently growing more wary by the second. “Works.”

TK is about to give into the stress when he looks around and doesn’t know what Carlos means. He racks his mind, trying to find something to help his fiancé, but he comes up empty-handed. All textbooks say that heat and steam should help with asthma attacks, but he’s never faced one on an adult. He’s at a loss until his eyes fall upon the fridge across the room.

“The fridge!” he exclaims, hitting his forehead with his free hand. “C’mon, Carlos, let me help you.”

They stumble through the tiled floors, their feet slipping every few steps, until they reach their destination. TK manages to balance Carlos’ weight against himself before reaching for the door. He opens the fridge, ignoring Carlosʼ wheezed protests, and he pushes his fiancé in front of the open cold. 

Carlos inhales as deeply as he can, which isnʼt much, while TK fishes his cell out of his pocket and dials Michelle. If anyone knows where an inhaler is in this house, it's her — even after moving out of the state following Iris, Michelle Blake still takes care of her family. 

“Keep doing this,” he encourages Carlos, who's now looking a little less pale than before. “Iʼm proud of you.”

“TK, I swear to God,” Michelle says upon answering the phone. 

“Carlos is having an asthma attack,” he cuts her. “I may throw a tantrum later about _neither_ of you telling me about this, but now I need to know if there’s an inhaler in the house. We don't have time to waste, I need to know now.” 

“There’s one in the lower drawer of the bathroom cabinet,” Michelle instructs, entering paramedic mode instantly. “Go get it. Leave the phone on speaker while you grab it. We don't want Carlos panicking more than he already is.” 

TK follows Michelleʼs instructions and he finds the device exactly where she said it would be — in a drawer he hasnʼt paid much attention to because Carlos had told him it was some sort of hotchpotch. He understands now — there are different inhalers and a few more medical stuff that Michelle had undoubtedly placed there just in case. TK knows that, albeit being rare, asthma attacks in adults are a thing, and most adults don't have anything to ease them at home. 

He comes back to the kitchen, to Michelle scolding Carlos for not telling TK that heʼs had asthma up until he turned twelve. 

“I know you didn't want to worry him, Carlos. But that's something you tell the man you're going to marry, Reyes,” she’s saying. “I can't believe I leave for some time and you forget basic manners!”

TK hands the inhaler over. Carlos uses it twice before color begins to come back to his face. 

“Not some time,” Carlos tells her, still a bit breathless. “Almost three years now.” 

“Yeah, well,” Michelle sighs. “I forgot you can be a dumbass in need of my presence as well. Are you feeling better?” 

TK helps Carlos to walk back to their room, the movies forgotten on the DVR, as he chats with Michelle. Their easy banter is light and refreshing after the scare they just had. Michelle tells him to keep an eye on Carlos and to bring him to the ER if it happens again, and TK promises to do so. 

Much, much later, they will have a conversation about how Carlos canʼt keep these things to himself — how TK needs to know in order to be helpful if it ever happens — and Carlos will apologize for never finding the right moment to say _hey, know what, I used to be asthmatic until I was twelve_. 

But for now, TK is content with wrapping his arms around Carlos and pulling him closer, feeling the heartbeat underneath the skin. Later, much later, they will discuss this. But for now, TK soothes Carlosʼ fears — and his own — with peppered kisses on Carlosʼ back. 

They fall asleep tangled, and when the morning comes, TK still has Carlos spooned against his chest.


End file.
